


The Secret Parlor

by Tantaylor



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: Dom/sub, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Whipping, matchboxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27091003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tantaylor/pseuds/Tantaylor
Summary: That such things still exist, matchboxes.And sometimes they tell you everything
Relationships: Nick Rhodes/Roger Taylor (Duran Duran)
Kudos: 3





	The Secret Parlor

**Author's Note:**

> It all started with a matchbox I found in a long unused handbag.
> 
> And then I wrote for two days, because I had to get that out of my head.
> 
> Story takes place in 2017, starting during the Paper Gods-Tour.
> 
> English is not my mother tongue, no beta
> 
> Please leave feedback  
> Thank you

Nick sighed. This tour was beginning to become exhausting. But it wasn't the touring itself, the travelling, the shows, the TV appearances.

The problem was that they were starting to get on each other's nerves.  
John, Dom, Roger and Charlie probably missed their families.  
He could relate, even though the only family to be missed were his parents.

He had not had a serious love affair for a long time, and because he was gay, there were no children.  
Which he occasionally found a little regrettable.

Sometimes he envied Roger for his late coming out, a coming out after a marriage with three children.

Yes, that came as a surprise back then.

He had hoped that the fact that they were both gay would bring them closer together, but the opposite seemed to be the case.  
Although their drummer was much more relaxed and open, he still kept his private life secretive.  
Whether there was a man in his life, no idea.  
He had the impression that Roger was literally avoiding him.  
That was a pity, but Nick was not someone who chased after others. 

It was all the more surprising that Roger sat down next to him at that very moment, at the window of the hotel lobby.  
“Hey. Have you had breakfast yet?”

It was already after eleven, but his band mates knew that Nick was absolutely no morning person.  
His stomach rumbled in response, and they both laughed.

“You know, there is a cafe across the street, they offer breakfast all day. Do you feel like it?”  
Okay, that was weird. Did Roger just invite him in, so to speak?  
“Sure, why not?”

They ate together, and that was pretty much the only thing, because Roger didn't say much.  
Nick tried to start a conversation, but gave up after a while.  
Strangely enough, it was quite nice to just sit together in silence and enjoy really good food.

The next day, the heated atmosphere escalated into a fierce argument between Simon and John. Twenty minutes before they had to go on stage.  
Nick couldn't find his balance during the show, he felt stressed and overwhelmed.  
He needed a valve, something where he could release his tension.  
So the first thing he did when he was back in his hotel room was to call an old friend.  
To be honest, his bandmates didn't know much more about his private life than they did about Rogers.  
Being gay might be okay, but his sexual preferences should not be made public. That would harm the band, their image.

The better it was to have this friend. A whole network, more precisely, consisting of people who were like him. Who, just like him, wanted to be discreet, needed the discretion.

Brent, for example, the man he now called, was a well-known politician, his partner Toby a respected businessman. That they were a couple was common knowledge, but the special nature of their relationship was a well-kept secret.

Brent started this network over ten years ago and it has been growing ever since. A book of revelations about this special connection between those people would have made the author a millionaire. The illustrious circle included musicians, actors, rich nobility and so on, all very famous men and women who shared a common passion. The passion of BDSM. More precise, the dominant side of this preference.

“Good evening, Brent. It`s Nick. I`m in Atlanta for the next three days and I`m looking for a safe place. Any club or private circle around here?”

“Let me check, mate. I`ll call you back in a few.”

Safe places, that's what it was all about. Places where they could live it up without having to fear that something would get into the press.  
A photo of him flogging a naked, willing sub would probably not be a very good advertisement for the Paper Gods tour.

Brent's partner and sub, Toby, had created a similar network for the submissive side, for whom protection and security was even more important. For some rich and powerful people, the revelation of their inclinations would have meant certain social death. A submissive lawyer? Not a chance. A tough businesswoman who likes to be tied up? Unbelievable.  
Moreover, these people had to be additionally protected from abusive wannabe dominants.

Nick waited impatiently for Brent to call back.  
A meeting with a complete stranger wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it was better than nothing. Since the relationship with Morten had broken up, he had thrown himself into work. Duran Duran, that was his purpose in life, there was no place for the effort it took to have a full-time sub, a real, serious relationship. Maybe when this tour was finally over. Maybe then he would look around again, search. He had not given up hope yet.

It took 30 minutes for Brent to get back to him.  
“Okay, my friend, I was able to identify two possibilities. There's a club in the middle of the city centre, but there are rarely gays there. There is also a private play circle near your hotel. These are mostly heterosexuals too, and more often couples, but they sometimes have an extra sub with them. One of the ladies is a good friend of mine and would let you have one of her slaves. I'll give you her number. Think it over."

“Thanks for your efforts, Brent. Say hello to Toby for me, will you?” He noted down the lady's telephone number and the name of the club, but already knew that he would not go.  
It was frustrating. Being gay made the whole thing much more difficult. He just didn't feel like the usual gay leather bars and as Brent said, there are rarely gays in the other SM-clubs, no matter that they were open for LGBTQs. He didn't want to be a fifth wheel on the car during a private round. He wouldn't go. Neither to the club nor would he call the lady. 

Shit.

He was quite surprised when a few minutes later his mobile rang, Brent's number on the display.

But it wasn't Brent, it was Toby. And Toby sounded pretty stressed.  
"Please, Nick, don't go to this club, yeah? Don't ask me why, don't go to that club, I'm begging you.”

“Calm down, I`m not going anywhere, Tobs.”

“Oh. Okay. Good. Sorry, but…I can`t tell you why.”

“Discretion, I know. Is it a fan? I know that Judge Jones is a Duran fan. But then she also knows that I'm not the least bit interested in her naked ass.” Nick chuckled.

“My lips are sealed.”

“Of course, I was just teasing, Tobs, you know that. Have a good night.”

“I'm very sorry you won't have a good night, Nick.”

“Oh, my Merlot always gives way to me very willingly, that's ok.”  
No. It was not okay. Nick was feeling lonely. He missed Morten, even though they had been separated for over a year. He missed what Morten was before he changed so much.  
For two whole weeks he managed to suppress his need, but after another fierce argument between his band mates, in which even the quiet Roger lost his patience, he called Brent again.

“Honestly, Nick, I was a little scared about this call. We've got a, shall we say, difficult situation here, and for the first time Toby and I don't know how to deal with it. There is only one club near you which I would personally guarantee your safety, but Toby told someone else about this place an hour ago. And we're both not sure if it would be a good idea for you to meet there. It could be something wonderful, but it could also end in disaster.”  
“Whoever it is, you know that I depend on discretion as much as he does. Or she. I don't understand the problem, Brent.”  
“That is precisely the problem. I can't explain it to you, you see? Of course I'll tell you the name of the club and of course I can't forbid you to go there. But like I said, it could end in disaster.”  
“You also said it could be something wonderful.”  
“This is exactly what I am arguing about with Toby right now. I support the *Wonderful*- theory, he's for disaster. We haven't argued for years, Nick, it's a very unpleasant situation. I'm asking you as a friend, don't ask the name of the club, then I don't have to keep arguing with the man I love. I advise you, Nick, just pay a little more attention to the people around you.”  
“Could you be a little less cryptic, Brent?”  
“No, I can't. Toby promised as much discretion as I did, and you know we have to be extra protective of the subs. No involuntary outings.”

“I want the name of the club, Brent. I don't know if I'm going to go, but I'd like to keep my options open, okay?”  
Brent sighed, then gave the name and address.  
Nick almost did go, if Simon hadn't shown up with a bottle of champagne.  
At some point during the night Dom and John joined in, and later even Roger.

A relaxed night with his band mates had clearly been the better choice. Afterwards they all felt better.  
The next day was one of the absolutely rare ones without any commitment, and in the early afternoon Nick took out his camera to take some nice pictures in the area.  
In front of the lift he met Roger, who apparently was about to go jogging.

“Sporty, sporty, young man, especially considering how much champagne you drank last night,” he winked.  
“Many thanks for the young man. What are you doing?”  
“I thought maybe I could photograph nature for a change, while we are here in the middle of nowhere.”  
“Valerie at the reception told me that there`s a dilapidated house on one of the hills. Picturesque, somehow enchanted. You like that sort of thing, don't you? I was going to have a look at it, would you come?”  
“As long as you don't ask me to go jogging, I'd love to.”  
“Oh, honestly, you're a good excuse for not running. Because it really was a little too much champagne.”  
Again they did not talk very much and again it was kind of nice just to be silent together.  
Roger's presence had an amazingly calming effect. Perhaps because Roger was so unobtrusive, so at peace with himself.  
When they finally arrived at the ruins of that house, Nick felt the need to smoke a cigarette for the first time in years.  
This place was indeed somehow enchanted, a sight to be admired. With a cigarette.  
For such an occasion he always had two or three cigarettes with him, even though he always threw them away after a week and exchanged them for new ones. Old, dried up tobacco was disgusting.  
Only when he had the cigarette between his lips did he notice that he had no lighter with him.  
“Oh, damn it! I guess the sporty drummer doesn't smoke and doesn't happen to have a lighter around, does he?”  
“I'll tell you a well-kept secret, Nick Rhodes. Every time I take a break from running, I have a smoke. Stupid, right?”  
“Not at all. I find it very gratifying at the moment.”

What Roger handed him, however, was not a lighter, but a matchbox. That something like that still existed, matches!  
It was one of those advertising boxes that you sometimes get in pubs, with the name of the pub printed on it. This one was amazingly stylish for something as banal as a matchbox. Shiny black with a neon print.  
The Secret Parlor, this was the imprint.  
Nick almost dropped the box.  
The Secret Parlor.  
Oh, God. No way! No fucking way!  
That was the name of the club Brent had given him yesterday. The name of an SM club.

The place someone else had asked for before him. Someone with whom a meeting in this club was perhaps something wonderful, but perhaps also a disaster.  
Pay attention to the people around you, Brent had said.  
Everything suddenly made sense.  
What should he now do with this knowledge? Oh, fuck!  
“What's wrong?" asked Roger.  
Roger, who had called Toby to ask for a safe place. Roger, who had been to an SM club last night. Roger, who was part of a network of submissive people.

Nick took a deep breath.  
“Nothing, I just thought maybe I shouldn't smoke. After all, I've gone five years without one now. John would be proud of me.”  
“Oh, great! Now you make me feel guilty.” Roger put his own cigarettes back in his pocket.  
Bloody hell, what could he do? Pretend this didn't happen? That he didn't know?  
“Roger, I'd like to ask you something. I was under the impression that you were somehow avoiding me. And I'd like to know why.”  
“Get out of your way? Why would I do that?”  
“I don't know, that's why I'm asking you. I do not know anything about you, not even if you have a boyfriend.”  
A Dom. A fucking Dom. He probably didn't have one, otherwise he wouldn't go to such a club, would he? Nick could not imagine that Roger was someone who betrayed his partner.

“I don't know if you have a boyfriend either.”  
“I had one. Until a year ago. But he couldn't handle that I invested so much time in the band.”  
“That sounds very familiar.” Roger shrugged. “Alen gave me a choice. He or the band. And believe me, this decision was not easy for me. But now I believe that if he really loved me, then...shouldn't it be like that in a partnership? That you let the other do what makes him happy? But he was jealous. He thought I was making out with other men. He didn't trust me. That hurt. Still, sometimes I miss him.”  
“I miss Morten sometimes too. But you still haven't answered my question.”  
“If I have indeed been avoiding you, it was not intentional. It's just... you're very intense. Honestly, you make me a little nervous.”  
“Is that some kind of weird compliment? That I make you nervous?” He wiggled his brows, trying hard to keep this conversation nice and easy.  
Roger's soft laugh sounded somehow beautiful, and that he blushed a little was undoubtedly very cute.  
“I'm not sure. I just can't place you. There's something very mysterious about you.”

“Well, I definitely take that as a compliment now. Who doesn't like to be a little mysterious? By the way, you're pretty hard to figure out too. On the one hand you are much more open than before, on the other hand you are still the quiet loner.”  
“I am trying to change that. But I'm just not like you. Like you, John and Charlie. You're just too dramatic , too loud. This is sometimes too exhausting for me. Your giant egos.”  
Nick wondered how he could have been so blind.  
Roger was the epitome of a submissive man, reserved, polite and friendly with a strong need for harmony.  
Some might consider this a weakness, but there was so much strength in it.  
In the ability to concentrate on the essential, not wasting one's time on pointless arguments. 

That was not shyness, it was energy management.

Roger preferred to go running rather than arguing. However, that seemed no longer sufficient to relieve the stress.

Just like Nick, he seemed to be looking for the relaxation that you could find in an S&M session, at least when everything was going well.

Wait a minute! 

Maybe he had already found relaxation, yesterday in this club.  
Is that why he had been in such high spirits last night, why he had sat with them all for such an amazingly long time, enjoying the champagne, something he rarely did?  
The image in his head hit him with full force.  
A naked Roger in handcuffs, writhing under the blows of a crop.

Was that his form of SM? Did he like the crop, the whip or the cane, like Nick?  
Was it about the pain or did he like the less brutal way, the silent obedience, the submissive serving?  
Perhaps also, like most, a healthy mixture of both?  
Did he allow sex or was it just about playing with power and submission?  
Were marks and bruises hidden under his tight running clothes?  
Fuck, this thought was equally exciting and disturbing.

No, he couldn't pretend that nothing had changed.  
He was still holding the matchbox in his hand.  
The Secret Parlor.  
“Something wonderful or a disaster, that`s the question,” he mumbled.  
“Huh?”  
“Can we sit down somewhere? I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, but I can't pretend I don't know either.”  
“Like you don't know what?”  
“We almost met yesterday. “  
“Uh...as I recall, we sat together for hours yesterday.” Roger looked wonderfully confused. Wonderfully insecure. Roger looked wonderful in general.  
God, it was disturbing!  
Nick grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to a fallen tree.  
"Sit down. If you can sit.”  
“I don't mean to offend you, Nick Rhodes, but you are acting very strangely.” Roger sat down. That was good. Apparently he hadn't been spanked, and if he had, not very hard.  
Getting spanked might not have been a very good idea if you were a drummer.  
Nick laughed softly.  
Man, that was really crazy!

He sat down beside him. Not too close. Touching each other would not be good now. 

"What I mean is, we almost met there.” He held up the matchbox. "However, Brent advised me not to go. But I would have gone anyway, if Simon hadn't turned up. Pretty selfish, don't you think? After all, Brent had a bad fight with Toby over it.” His gaze fixed on Roger's face and what he saw there was a whole symphony of feelings.  
Confusion, shock, realization. Then shame.  
“Oh.” This little word was not much more than a shaky exhalation, followed by another little oh.

Yet Roger did not avoid his gaze, holding his ground. Strong, stubborn man. Certainly not easy to handle as a sub.  
Unlike Morten.  
Nick had convinced himself that the reason for their separation was the missing time, the missing time together. Morten had said the same thing.

But the real reason was that Morten had started to bore him. As nice as willing obedience was, someone who had no other interests of his own became boring after a while.

And that's why he had spent more and more time in the studio, more and more time with John, Simon and Dom.  
And Roger.

Roger, who still looked at him with his big, astonished, gentle eyes. 

“You've been to a club in Atlanta too, haven't you? I got a panicky phone call from Toby himself. I thought this was about Judge Jones. She's been to several shows, have you seen her? Always in the front row.”

Roger chuckled then nodded.  
“I can't see much from behind the drums, but she was very visible at the club in Atlanta.”

“So you go to clubs a lot, huh?” Nick was astonished to discover that he was extremely displeased with this idea.

“Not really. Only when your fights get too much on my nerves. This tour is clearly too long. I miss the kids. I miss the normal life. Well, the other life too, but unfortunately my so-called Dom, Arlen, has turned into a jealous, screaming bitch. He wanted to forbid me to go on this tour. And you know what the really disturbing thing was? I almost let him. We were a bit too deep in this 24/7 constellation.”

“Like me and Morten, I guess. With the difference that he would have done everything I wanted him to do, or not done it if I had forbidden it. That became too much for me.”

“I do not understand that. Isn't that what you doms want? Obedience, devotion, whatever?”  
Well, apparently Roger had recovered from his fright very quickly. Maybe because this was not entirely unexpected for him. 

"Is it possible, Roger, that you unconsciously avoided me because you somehow noticed?”

“What, that you're a dom? Yeah, possible. But like I said, I couldn't really place you. Incomprehensible, because now that I know, it is completely obvious, controller. But please explain to me about Morten. Why does a dom leave a sub who behaves as expected of him?”

“Total obedience becomes boring with time. And extraordinarily exhausting. I don't have to tell an adult what to wear, or what and when to eat. That may be exciting temporarily, but not always. Every day. Constantly. I missed my partner, you know? I missed the man I used to have a fight with every once in a while. Or just go out, have dinner, talk about books and movies. Whenever I asked, Morten, what would you like to do, the answer was* whatever you want*. Obedience or not, people without their own will are not submissive, they are...I don't know. Empty, somehow.”

“You should give Morten Arlen's phone number; they would be a dream couple.”

“Roger?”

“Yes?”

“I'm pretty glad you disobeyed him. Because you're one of us, even though we're loud and have big egos.”

“Someone has to ground you nuts a little bit,” he winked. “You need me, otherwise you'd end up killing each other.”

“Roger Taylor, your ego's not too small either, is it?” Nick laughed.

The last part of the tour was more relaxed, but somehow strange.

After their conversation at the ruins, Roger seemed to get even more out of his way than before.

Oh, he was always nice. He smiled, greeted, sometimes they talked briefly. Of course they often sat together with the others, talking about the shows, about music.

But a conversation like the one at the old house? No chance. 

Now he had been back in his Chelsea flat for over a week and he was bored to death. He missed the shows, the audience, the stage fright, the adrenalin.  
And his band mates.

Especially the one.  
The one he had thought about so often. Who seemed to fit him so well in so many ways, and who avoided him.  
He opened a bottle of wine and looked at the pictures he had developed yesterday in his own darkroom.  
His own tour diary.

He had to laugh at himself when he realised that he was looking straight for pictures of Roger.

Who was he actually kidding?

He wanted to learn more about drummer, get to know him better...

No, that was not quite true either.

Actually, he wanted to find out if it could be something wonderful. If they could be more than friends, band mates.  
He wanted a date.  
And after all, he was the dominant, so he would take the first step.

“Taylor?”

“Are you in London?”

“Oh, hello, Nick! Er, I'm in London, yeah." Roger sounded surprised

"Great. Would you like to have dinner with me? I've been wanting to try this new Italian place near Piccadilly for ages.”

“Dinner?”

“You know, we meet, we go to a restaurant together, we eat well, we talk…”

“Some people would call this a date.”

“Yeah, I'd call it that. So, will you have dinner with me? Tonight?”

For an alarmingly long moment there was silence. Nick already feared that Roger would say no.

“Okay. What time? You want me to pick you up?”  
That came very hesitantly, but at least it was a yes.

“Seven thirty? And it would be great if you could pick me up. Oh, wait, come a little earlier. I'll book us a table for eight o'clock, and if you could be here around seven, then you can look at the photos. The ones of the old house have turned out wonderfully.”

“Yeah, okay. I'll be at your place around seven.”

“Awesome.”  
Only after he hung up did Nick realise that he hadn't had a date in half an eternity. Not a normal date, anyway. He had been meeting with subs for sessions. But dinner? Not for years. Not since he had been dating Morten, before Morten had turned into someone you couldn't have a proper conversation with anymore.  
What would it be like to have a scene with Roger?  
Would he be so quiet in subspace too?  
Or would he scream and beg, scold, fight back?  
Once again Nick laughed at himself.

It was ridiculous. The first date and he was already thinking about a session.  
A thought which, he had to admit, turned him on beyond all measure.

Roger was on time.  
Which Nick appreciated, because it was a sign of respect. He hated people who were notoriously late.  
Not only was he extremely on time, but he also looked extremely handsome.  
Like someone who had thought about what to wear on a date. Like someone who cared about looking good for the date.  
Looking good for him. Smelling good for him.  
The Dom in Nick performed a small, satisfied dance of joy. 

Maybe it was silly, maybe he interpreted too much into it, but at least they both knew who and what they were, didn't they?  
So if Roger wanted to please him, if he cared how he looked, then it was also about the sub wanting to please the Dom wasn't it?  
Anyway, he looked really fine.  
It wasn't just the tight jeans or the well-cut jacket, not just the discreet but masculine aftershave. It was above all that cautious little insecure smile. The slight blush on his cheeks.  
The way he stood there at the door.  
A little nervous, a little excited.

“Come on in, Roger. Would you like a drink? Sorry, I wasn't really thinking when I said it would be nice if you came and got me. Leave the car here and we'll take a taxi, then we can have champagne now and wine with dinner later.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. I, uh... I brought you something.” Roger handed him a small box, lovingly wrapped in red shiny gift paper, with a small silver bow on top. That was the moment when Nick's heart melted away. It was so... so thoughtful. So lovely.  
“A gift? For me? You shouldn't have.” 

“My mother taught me that you should bring something for your date. Even though I think she was thinking more of a girl. Well... to be honest, I've had them for a long time, but they fit you better than me.”  
They were cufflinks. Small, silver, discreet handcuffs, draped around a rose. A beautiful piece of work, definitely not mass-produced.

“I can't accept that, Roger. It's far too precious a gift.”

Roger turned pale. He swallowed violently  
“Oh, I...I don't know, Nick, am I getting this all wrong? I've tried not to give too much importance to the fact that you are who you are and that I am who I am, I've tried to pretend that this isn't some kind of miracle, some kind of...I don't know...destiny. Fate. A sign, at least.  
I tried to pretend like everything was the same. But it's not, Nick, is it? Nothing's the same anymore with what we know about each other now. And then you call me up and ask me out. We're not teenagers anymore. We know what's behind this, don't we? You're a Dom, I'm a sub. Not that that's all we are, but...”

Nick smiled. Everything in him became warm and soft. A feeling he hadn't had for a long time and what’s force scared him a little.  
"I don't think I've ever heard you say so much in all these years, Roger. Sit down.”

Nick led Roger to the sofa and tried to think straight , which was not easy considering he had just fallen madly in love. Just like that. Boom. Drum roll, haha.  
Roger looked a bit shrunken as he sat there on the sofa. As if those words had robbed him of his last energy.

Nick resisted the temptation to just take him in his arms. He wasn't sure if he could handle so much physical closeness at this moment. 

A simple, loving embrace had been almost as long ago as a normal date.  
Which was quite sad when you thought about it more thoroughly.  
Instead, he opened the bottle from the cooler on the table and poured them champagne before sitting down next to Roger. Just like on the tree trunk, he made sure they didn't touch each other.  
He had to be honest now. Completely honest, and to touch Roger would make it even harder to think straight, to find the right words.  
“First, Roger Andrew Taylor, you are right in everything you have said. I thought we could just have a normal date and see what happens, but we can't, can we? Well, of course we can have dinner, which, by the way, I still want to do. It's still not a normal date. The last time I had dinner with a man was with Morten. After we played a couple of times and agreed that we wanted more from each other than that. Ever since I realized what I expect from a relationship, it has always started that way. With a session. Sometimes what I did was a single encounter in a club, rarely in my home. Sometimes it became more. A play relationship, not a real partnership. Clear roles, time together only during the play. Apart from Morten there were only two others with whom I had a relationship that went beyond the playroom. But we have always lost the balance. Life consists of more than BDSM, and my life is largely Duran Duran. I also need food for my brain. Books, films, culture. Intelligent conversation. I like and expect obedience, but I don't want to tell someone what to do and what not to do 24 hours a day. I need someone who is my equal, Roger. Someone who shares more with me than SM. And since our conversation at this ruin, I've been thinking that maybe that could be you. I too have long pretended that this is not the case. Because what if it doesn't work? That would be fatal. Brent said back then that if you and I met in this club, it could be something wonderful. But also a complete disaster. What do you think, Roger? Do you think we can risk trying to make something wonderful out of it?”

“I wouldn't be here if I didn't think so, Nick. Remember I told you Arlen and Morten were the perfect couple? The moment I said that, I knew that might be the same for you and me. And I... uh... I wasn't completely honest with you before. The cufflinks, I bought them the day after we talked. At a shop that Toby recommended. And I wanted to give them to you. Actually, I wanted to get down on my knees in front of you and ask you if we...if you...but then I got scared because, like you said, what if it didn't work? I thought, my God, how am I going to get through this tour if you don't feel the same way I do, if you don't want me?"

Nick's inner Dom slowly but steadily dug to the surface through all the warmth of love.

“If so, I will gladly accept your gift. Ask me what you wanted to ask me, Roger.”

Oh. Oooh, that was amazing! The way Roger`s cheeks reddened, how his Adam's apple nervously bounced up and down as he swallowed violently. How his hands trembled slightly when he took the jewellery from the box. So beautiful!

But that was nothing compared to what happened next. Roger slipped off the sofa, down on his knees.  
“ Nick Rhodes, would you give me the extraordinary pleasure of accepting me as your sub?” 

“Of course! As long as you promise me to always be more than that and not to turn into an empty nut who I have to tell when to go to the toilet, promise me that, Roger. I want you to stay the sorted, stubborn drummer. I want to be able to talk to you and hug you and be your lover, not just your Dom.”

Roger chuckled softly and blushed a little more.  
“Hm, I think I can do that. I even think I like it a lot.”

“Excellent. Now put the cuffs on my sleeves and let's go on a normal date!”

Of course it was not a normal date. Sure, they went to this chic Italian restaurant, but their conversation was anything but normal.

Just until the starter was served, it was all about normal things. Family, Roger's children, the last movie they had seen.

The very things you told each other on a date.

But then the topic of conversation was turned off, because Nick had to ask something he had wanted to ask for a long time.  
“What happened at the Secret Parlor, Roger? Have you found someone to play with?”

Roger choked on his first bite; the question was probably unexpected.

It was astonishingly arousing to get him out of his wits.

“Uh. Do you really want to know or is that your not very subtle way of asking me what I like?”

“Probably both. We should talk about this, shouldn't we? “

“I suppose we should. So, yeah. I found someone. And it... well, it was good. Not amazing, but good. It was what it was supposed to be. Blowing off steam. Release stress. A solid flogging. A little too gentle for my taste, but better that way than when a neurotic idiot starts beating like a maniac. He was a little disappointed that he was not allowed to fuck me afterwards. We had discussed this before the play, but he thought I would change my mind. Anyway, I just left.”  
Roger made his words sound matter-of-fact, but he was visibly nervous. At least not as cool as he wanted Nick to think.

“So you separate that, sex and SM?”

“When I play with a stranger, definitely. Not in a relationship. “

“And in Atlanta, what happened there?”

“There I sat for two hours with a dominatrix at the bar and we philosophised about life. She regretted that I am gay and I regretted that she is a woman. I could have fallen in love with her if I liked women.”

“Her loss is my gain. So you like pain, do you? You like it rough. What else?”  
Roger visibly struggled for composure, struggled to keep the whole thing objective.

Nick enjoyed this sweet, exciting fight to no end.  
It was exactly what he had missed. This fighting back, this challenge.  
The knowledge he would gain in the end.  
Because he would. He would subdue this man. And he would do it today.

“Words, orders, consequence. Uncompromising strictness. I will fight it, but I want to surrender. Not without a fight. Many Doms just don't understand that.”

“I understand that. In fact, I find it extremely gratifying.”

Holy shit, this man was a dream! His dream. Why hadn't he realized it for so long?  
Okay, he would play this game.  
Roger wanted matter-of-factness? No problem.  
He would drive him crazy with objectivity.  
With cool, reserved objectivity.  
He took a sip of wine and ate a bite.  
Both the wine and the antipasti were excellent. Almost as excellent as the adrenalin rushing through his bloodstream. The thrill of dominance. Delicious.  
"Whip or cane?" he asked casually.

"Both."

"Are you rather silent or do you scream?"

"I scream."

"And do you beg?"

"Only when I am forced to."

"Do you like being forced?"

"I do.”

“Don't forget to eat, Roger. Tell me something you are afraid of, but still fascinated by.”

“Fisting.”

“Never experienced, I suppose?”

“You assume correctly.”

“Are you aware that this turns me on incredibly?”

“What, fisting?”

Nick had to laugh. Roger laughed with him. That was nice. 

"You're a little smart ass, Roger.”

“I make intelligent conversation. I'm feeding your brain.”

“It is not my brain that is enjoying this conversation. Keep up the good work. I promise you there will be consequences. We should probably not empty this bottle of wine. What about bondage? Do you like to be tied down?”

“Very much so.”

During the main course they remained silent.  
The palpable tension could have been cut with a knife; it was so thick.  
Neither of them refilled their wine glass. Both knew what that meant.  
The evening would not be over when they left the restaurant.  
Because this was no normal date.

Nick put his cutlery aside and reached for the napkin.  
"Would you like dessert, Roger?"

"No, thanks."

"Then what would you like?” 

“Going home with you.”

“To do what?”

“I'm not sure.”

“No, Roger, I won't let that stand. You started this game, you finish it. All evening long you've been annoyingly matter-of-fact. And now you're gonna tell me exactly as objectively what you want.”

Roger shifted uncomfortably on his chair, writhing with embarrassment.  
What a divine, arousing sight to see this cool objectivity shattered. This objectivity, which was just for show anyway. Provocation and struggle. Begging to be dominated. Roger's way of begging for it. Now he would make him beg for it in a proper way, as he should.  
“We are not leaving here until you clearly tell me what you want. What will happen if you go home with me?”

“I want... I want to be dominated.”

“Could this perhaps be a little less vague, Roger?”

“I want... damn it, Nick! I want to feel. Pain, lust, everything. Please!”

“There you go. That wasn't so hard, was it? Just stop acting. Stop acting so damn cool. You're not, and we both know it. I like it when you don't give up without a fight, but don't pretend to be someone you're not. Because I am not into role-playing. I want your honest, unfiltered self.Do I get that?”  
Roger nodded, cheeks bright red with shame.  
Oh yes! Oh so incredibly yes!

“Have you forgotten how to speak? Do I get the real Roger or are you just playing me?”

“I want to. I really want to be me. But it's not easy for me, sometimes it just scares me a little. Fuck, you know how much it scared me that I almost gave up Duran Duran because some wacko Dom asked me to?”

“I'm not Arlen, Roger. And I would never ask you to give up anything that was important to you. Trust me. I want everything you are, and I won't take away anything that makes you who you are.”

“I think this is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. You know, Nick, I'm pretty much in love with you.”

“It's the same for me, Roger. Even though I only realised this today. Be so kind and call us a taxi, I will pay the bill.”

Roger smiled the sweetest smile ever as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.  
Nick waved at the waiter.

This night would be fantastic, he was sure of that.  
In the back seat of the taxi they kissed for the first time.  
Nick was overwhelmed by the intensity of something as simple as a kiss. And then he realised that he hadn't kissed anyone in a long time.  
At some point Morten didn't want to kiss any more, that didn't fit in with his fantasy of total submission.  
And when you met more or less strangers for a scene, you didn't kiss either.  
No romantic dinners, no hugs, no kisses.  
The whole thing was really pathetic. Sad.

"I'd almost forgotten how delicious it is to kiss. Or to have someone in your arms,” he said quietly as he pulled Roger even closer. He was so warm, so alive. It felt incredibly good to snuggle up to this solid, firm body.

“Me too.”

Roger nibbled at his neck and God, was that beautiful.  
Maybe they should leave all that stuff out. Canes, whips, handcuffs, whatever.  
Maybe they should just make out. Snuggle. Make love.

“Arlen did not like kissing?”

“I quote: Doms do not kiss. Why haven't you kissed for so long, Nick?”

“Oh, I also quote: I am an obsequious slave and unworthy of a kiss.”

“Could it be that we have had quite sick relationships?” Roger chuckled, hot breath sweeping over Nick`s skin.

“The really sick thing about it is that I am only now really beginning to understand it. How much you take away from yourself if you stick too much to some stupid rules.”

“Tell me about it! It's fucking complicated being the way we are, innit? Like I said, it scares me sometimes. You know, I kinda like rules, but I like kissing, too. It can't be that difficult to have both. Carrot and stick.”

“The challenge is to find the balance, I think. We were both with someone who did not want that balance. Total submission, total power.”

“I told you they were perfectly happy together. And now I would like to stop talking about them. You are not Arlen; I am not Morten.”

The taxi stopped in front of the building Nick lived in.  
Again they were silent as they went up in the lift.  
Being silent with Roger had always been strangely reassuring, but this time it was different.

Tension was in the air. Clearly sexual tension. They looked at each other all the time, and already Nick had the feeling that it would be incredibly difficult to find said balance. A part of him longed to kiss and cuddle. But then there was the image that first appeared at the ruins. The naked Roger writhing under the whip.  
Nick unlocked his front door and let Roger in first.  
"After you, Mr. Taylor."  
That was a strange moment.  
Roger had been in his flat so many times before. Roger's children had been in that flat, his parents. Simon and Roger had carried Jean up because the wheelchair didn't fit in the lift.

Maybe this was a bit of an inappropriate time to think about the family, but it did something to Nick.  
Strange as it may sound, it gave him security.  
Yes, Roger was not Morten.  
Roger certainly did not want total submission, and even if he did, it wouldn't work at all. Because Roger was a loving father and son who cared about the family.  
Knowing each other for so long had felt strange when Nick understood what the imprint on the matchbox actually meant, but now it was something good. They would never be just dom and sub. They had a history together, and now they would continue that history. 

Unexpectedly different, though.

They would have it all.  
They would kiss and cuddle. And then Nick would show Roger his personal Secret Parlour. Written with a *u*, because they were in Britain now, at his home. Because Roger would never go to a club like that again, in America or anywhere else. And if he did, they would go together. In any case, he would never again let himself be whipped by any stranger. Never again.  
They would cuddle and kiss After the parlour.  
Maybe even while they were there. Who said they couldn't?

"Give me your coat, Roger. Would you be so kind as to make us some coffee? I'll be right back.”

Once Roger had disappeared into the kitchen, Nick walked slowly down the hall, enjoying every step. 

The secret room. Finally it would be used again.

He unlocked the door and turned on the light, looked around. Pondered.  
He had always liked this part of the play. Thinking about what he would do. Which piece of furniture, which toy he would use, and this time it was even more exciting than usual.  
He didn't have to think long.  
A few things were quickly set up and he didn't bother to lock the door again when he left the room.

Roger was leaning against the kitchen counter, the red cup with the small crack in his hand.  
A sight so familiar it warmed Nick's heart.  
"You always take the red cup."

"Do I? "

“You do.”

“I hadn't noticed. But it's nice to have my own cup at your place.”

“I'll get you one without a crack.”

“But I like the crack. This is a cup with character. Perfection is boring.”

“I didn't know you had a little philosopher in you.”

“Well, there's a lot you didn't know. Take your coffee, it will get cold. Black, two sugars, right?”

“In a moment. Put the character cup down for a second, will you?”

Roger smiled as he placed the cup on the counter. He knew what would happen and spread his arms invitingly.  
Nick snuggled into the hug, enjoying the feeling of being held.  
This gentle, strong man. So warm, so loving.  
Their kiss began tenderly, almost chastely.  
But then the soft lips willingly gave way and let him in. 

He let his tongue go exploring, discovering every nook and cranny of this delicious mouth.  
Warmth and softness, the sharp edges of the teeth.  
Roger seemed to melt away, his body flowing towards his own. So cuddly. Yielding.  
A moment ago Roger had held him, now he held Roger. The longer this kiss lasted, the clearer their personalities became.  
When they finally separated, Roger's undoubtedly very manly face looked very soft. Younger. Relaxed.

My God, already? Is he starting to fly yet? From a kiss?

“Your coffee,” he said, and even his voice sounded softer and younger.

“Forget the coffee. Will you let me undress you?”

“But of course, yes.”

Roger made a delightful little noise when Nick got down on his knees to take off his shoes and socks.  
Sweet. Like a little, excited puppy.  
Before he got up again, he stroked up the muscular legs, felt the rough fabric of the jeans under his fingers, the muscles underneath. The heat Roger radiated even seeped through the thick denim.  
He could hardly wait to touch naked skin, but he would take his time. He had known the man standing in front of him for so long, and yet he was a stranger to him. And now he would get to know him, get to know this hot, muscular body.  
Nick took another kiss, hard and fast, and Roger moaned in his mouth.  
Also a very nice sound. Very, very nice.  
He liked noises, loved them, wanted them.  
Playing with a sub was about the same as playing the keyboard.  
If you did it right, you could hear wonderful music.  
But you just had to know when to press which button, which key. How long, how hard, in which order.  
Now he`d play Roger, would find out which buttons to push.  
But since Roger was no keyboard, something was missing.  
Something he had almost forgotten.  
Oops.  
“I need your safe word, Roger.”

“Huh? Oh. Collateral damage.”

“An interesting choice of words.”

He placed both palms on Roger's chest, felt how the chest rose and fell under short, rapid breaths. Felt the hard nipples that seem to be trying to break through the shirt.  
They were big as cherries and hard as stone.  
Oooh, fantastic!  
He liked nipples, liked to play with them, to caress them, to lick and bite them.  
These ones screamed for clamps.  
He rubbed them through the fabric.  
Roger made that cute puppy noise again.  
He already loved that sound.  
The first button of the shirt was opened, Nick's fingers stroked along the collarbone.  
Roger giggled.  
So he was ticklish, good to know.  
The second button. The first wiry hair under his fingers.  
Also something he hadn't felt for a long time. Chest hair.  
Most subs shaved or went for waxing or whatever, at least they did not have hair on their chest.  
Button number three. More chest hair. A fast, strong heartbeat.  
Another wonderful sound from Roger's mouth. The puppy began to growl.  
Nick smiled.  
Oh yes, slowly the music started.  
They were still soft sounds, but soon it would become loud.  
The fourth button was halfway through, and the fabric gaped apart, revealing tanned skin.  
Finally a belly button appeared. A very pretty specimen of a navel.  
He poked his finger into it, and Roger squeaked.  
It was an extremely unmanly sound, but it was wonderful. Because it was real. Because he had caused it.  
Roger's quiet giggling was also wonderful.  
That was what Nick wanted. Honest, real reactions.  
Feelings.  
Laughing, crying, screaming, cursing, everything that was real.  
Everything that was Roger.  
With the shirt in his hand, he took a step back, admiring the broad male chest, the toned stomach.  
“Running seems to be a good training.”

“Drumming is a good training. Unlike certain other people who just stand around on stage, we drummers really have to work.”

There he goes, getting sassy again.  
Just you wait, smart-ass.

“Is that so? Well, then you will be happy to hear that you can just stand around today for a change. You stand around, I do the work.”  
He got very close to Roger, as close as possible without touching him, carelessly dropping the shirt as he did so.

“May I continue now or would you like to make some more stupid sayings?”

“I…no. Sorry. I will shut up, sorry.”

“Very nice, Roger, thank you. But I don't want you to shut up, because I want to hear you. I want to hear every little sound you make, no matter how small. Can you do that, Roger? Just stand there and make nice noises?

“I... yes.”

Nick stepped back and leaned against the kitchen table.

"Excellent. I want you to turn around and put your hands behind your head.”

Roger's eyes widened in surprise, but he obeyed.  
The back was just as beautiful to look at as the front, perhaps even more so.  
Because of this really sexy ass.  
And although these jeans made it look really good, uncovered it would be a thousand times sexier.  
Again Nick came up to him, this time he pressed himself against him, inhaled his scent, felt the slight trembling as his fingers found the trouser button, then pulled the zipper down.

He tried hard not to touch the tempting bump, which turned out to be difficult.

Oh. This was really...big. 

Nick laughed softly, got down on his knees behind Roger, pulling down the annoyingly tight jeans with him.  
Roger fought for his balance, but his hands remained behind his head.  
When both jeans and briefs pooled at his ankles, it was Nick who made a noise.

“What is that, Roger Taylor? I can'! believe this!”

“I... well, you know, it's been a while, and I thought…”

“You thought, oh, I have a date with Nick, so I wear a plug and don't tell him? I ask Nick if I can be his sub, but I don't tell him?”

It was hot, unbelievably hot, but he wouldn't tell Roger that. The idea that Roger had been wearing a plug all evening turned him on incredibly. 

“I just... I wanted to be prepared.”

“Oh? And what exactly did you want to be prepared for?”

“I haven't had sex for a very long time, Nick.”

"Hold on to the counter, Roger, and let me help you out of your pants. Fine, thank you. Now look at me, will you? Turn around and look at me."

Roger was obviously embarrassed to death; he couldn't look at Nick.

“I... You think I'm a slut now?”

“Why would I think that?”

“Because I want to be fucked by you on the first date.”

“Well, then, apparently we're both sluts. Because I will definitely fuck you. Besides, I have known you since I was 16. That's almost 40 years. 40 years in which we definitely haven't fucked, unfortunately. Now turn around and show me your glorious ass.”

“My pretty old ass, you mean. Ouch!”

“Yeah, right, ouch! Because I'm going to spank that rather old, but nevertheless rather handsome ass! Come on, push it out for me!” 

Nick loved to use his bare hand. And he could use it in ways that really hurt.  
It wouldn't just be a shallow pat on the butt. Spanking was often smiled at in SM circles as a harmless pastime.  
At best something to warm up.  
“Yes, a little more! Spread your legs and hold on tight.”

Roger cried out under the first firm blow, though probably more out of surprise than real pain.  
Again someone who had underestimated spanking. Hard spanking.  
The next blow was aimed at the base of the plug, which was tantalisingly between the buttocks.  
“Fuck, yes!” Roger yelled.

And then he became quieter with every blow.  
The screaming became moaning, the moaning became sobbing, the sobbing became whimpering.

Divine, wonderful music between the relentless slapping on hot skin. But Nick wanted this music louder.  
He grabbed the plug, pulled it out a bit and started to fuck Roger with it to the rhythm of his blows.  
“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! Yes! Please! Please more!”

Roger was really and truly a slut. A pain slut.

Time to move it all to the playroom, where there were so many pretty toys.  
Roger willingly let himself be placed under the ceiling hook, smiled dreamily when Nick put the leather cuffs on him and thanked him extremely politely when he fastened his stretched arms over his head.  
He was cute. Sweet and sexy and totally out of it.  
Nick knew that many stopped at this point because the sub was no longer with them. Because it was no longer about them. Egomaniacs, as Nick thought.  
Not many subs reached this state, this perfect floating.  
But those who did said that they would feel extremely bad if they were pulled out of this stage too early, too abrupt.  
And wasn't that what it was all about?  
The subspace?  
Quite apart from that, it was simply a beautiful sight. Pure bliss.  
No, Roger was allowed to float, should float, enjoy this incredible ability to let go completely. 

He screamed and writhed under the whip and smiled as he did so.

His pretty, big cock dripped with lust.

A few times he was about to come. 

Each time Nick stopped, put an arm around him, kissed his sweaty skin and whispered:

“A little more, Roger. A little longer. Because you are so beautiful. Because it's so beautiful how you suffer. We'll come together, Roger, okay? I want to come inside you. Hold on a little longer.”

“Uh huh”

When Nick finally buried himself in the incredible, velvety heat of Roger's body, angels sang.  
Yes, they were good together. They made wonderful music.


End file.
